Falling
by luvtwilight4eva
Summary: Leaves fall, raindrops fall, even tears fall. But not me. I never fall. Mechanicward/Brokenward/Tattward/Olderward. OOC. AH.
1. Mark Me Contest entry

**Disclaimer: **The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

**This was my entry for the now cancelled Mark Me contest (** www . fanfiction u / 4960477 / MarkMeContest). **It includes pieces of my next WIP, Falling. I will share with each of you now, but when the story is fully revealed this one shot will be taken down and parts will be included in the WIP. **Sunflower Fran beta'd but I tinkered right up to the entry deadline. All mistakes are my own.

∞∞∞Falling∞∞∞

She just happened to come into my garage earlier this afternoon, along with her sister.

Wearing a checkered, yellow mini skirt and white top, and showcasing a body that I wanted to make mine. But she had these big, blue-green eyes that were filled with innocence. _They_ held me back from unleashing my true self onto a girl like her.

I've been in hell since then … and frankly, I don't fucking like it.

Her hair color is all wrong.

_Fuck me if the color isn't the same as that other bitch that ruined my life._

A body so perfect that I knew a God had to exist to make someone this fine. And her eyes screamed purity … eyes like hers I've only seen in my Ma, and the woman that died too soon. But, never on the women that I usually attract.

She forced me to notice her, and that never happens. It's like I have no control.

I don't like it one … damn … bit.

Now, six hours later, and for the first time _ever_ I'm here … doing something I've never done before.

I'm on fucking a 'date'.

I mentally shake my body in disgust.

She has no clue that this is not something I do.

Have never done.

A swift kick to my shin forces my silent, one-way discussion to an end, and draws my attention to the faces of the three people at the table. Seated to my left, is my brother, Jasper Carlisle, who goes by JC; in front of him is one-half of the duo that started this mess, Alice Swan, or as he calls her Allie Cat, and rounding out the table is Allie Cat's sister_._

Isa.

Isa damn Swan.

Also, known as Isabella Swan.

I'm part of this travesty because of my brother, and his need to take Alice on a date. In order to get her to accept, she needed a date for her sister, and guess who was offered up as the sacrificial lamb?

_I only agreed, when he asked, because my mind was still befuddled by her body in that skirt._

That's my story and I'm sticking to it

It has nothing to do with how her quiet beauty drew me in despite my personal, physical requirements of the women that I spend time with. Any other excuse would make me seem like a pussy … and I'm no pussy.

So I'm here now, with the one that's given me a case of blue balls like no one has ever—and I do mean never _ever_—before.

I scowl in her direction.

A normal person's reactions to my scowl would have included a contrite look or a mumbled "sorry" or an "excuse me". But most definitely, the recipient of said scowl would just know enough to leave me alone.

What Isa does when she sees my scowl is different … refreshing … yet, still goddamn annoying because of what _it_ does to me.

She laughs.

Not the cute, behind the hand laugh that I've seen on the big screen when a woman is trying to lure a man by her innocence.

Nor it is the kind of laughter that is pretend.

No, this one, simply from where I'm seated in front of her, comes from her belly. Her shoulders shake. Tears fall from the sides of her eyes and even the motherfucking snort coming from her direction swells my cock up even more.

More so than that white dress she's wearing.

My eyes flit over the dress again. The front hugs her hips; succulently, making me think about placing my hands there, holding her in place while she rides me reverse cowgirl. The back dips so low that I can almost see the top part of her ass crack. Her spine is exposed, and I want to trail my fingertip along the ridges and lick up any sweat that gathers there from our combustive joining.

_A man can imagine, can't he?_

Ever since getting out of my car at the restaurant and seeing her outfit, I have been imagining.

And ever since then, I've been adjusting myself on the sly—and often.

Like I said, the dress is sinful, but when you take in her face, the lack of beguile found in her eyes does more to me than her wicked body in that dress. They beckon me in a way that no one's eyes have ever done before. Their expressiveness makes me wonder what she'll look like early in the morning without any make-up.

As her laughter dies down, I feel four pairs of eyes on me, and I realize they are waiting on me to say something. But, I haven't got a clue what was said, having been distracted by a girl, who on any other occasion, I'd never give the time of day.

"So, how old did you say you were again?" Alice inquires.

I angle my head toward her. "I didn't—"

"He's twenty-four, Allie Cat," the Benedict Arnold who used to be my brother replies.

Alice uses her fork to lightly tap her lips and there's a gleam in her eyes. "And, you," She points her fork at her sister, "will be eighteen in two, short weeks. This is perfect." She dances a little in her chair.

"What's newsworthy isn't my upcoming birthday, but that I'll be going to Vassar in two, short weeks. Now that is perfect."

At the genuine smile that graces her face, I give her my undivided attention. "Vassar College, you don't say?"

Now, I'm really intrigued. _Booty ... er, I mean, beauty and brains. _

"It's nothing," she mumbles, shying away now that I'm giving her all my attention.

To my left, I hear JC's chair scrape against the tiled floor, but I can't look away. I already know that he planned to leave with Alice. Earlier, when they'd left to use the restroom, he'd volunteer my services to drive Isa home. At the time, before the kick to my shin, I'd only perfunctorily agreed.

_Now … now, I definitely want to give her a ride … and not in my goddamn car._

Impulsively, I grab her hand, massaging her fingers. "Where's that ballsy woman who just kicked me because I was being an asshole?" I tease her.

Her head comes up a little as she slowly removes her hand from mine. "She's still here. I don't like to talk about myself, is all."

"You should be proud of your accomplishment. Getting into one of the Seven Sister Schools affiliated with Yale is great," I boast as if I'm the one attending the Ivy League college.

She uses her hand to wave off my compliment. "Yeah. Yeah. Tell me something about yourself?" She spears a piece of asparagus with her fork.

"Not much to tell. I work hard, play even harder, and just met an interesting young lady who refuses to talk about herself."

She eyes me warily, probably deciding on the reaction she'll exhibit. I smile my panty-dropping smile that I've been told I have, which elicits a small smile of her own.

"Here's what we'll do …" She twirls some pasta around her fork, puts it in her mouth, and proceeds to chew.

As she savors the taste, she has the most incredible looking expression on her face. Only word to describe it: orgasmic.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

I fix my face, hating being caught staring like a lovesick fool. "Nothing," I lie, clearing my throat, "You were saying?"

"Oh, yes. We could do a question and answer. One question, one answer," she states, smiling and it's like she has an afterthought, "And, we must be honest."

I grin at her because she's pointed her fork toward me when she ended her statement. As if I would be anything but honest.

"Well, ladies first,"I gesture good naturedly.

"What's one thing about you that would surprise me?"

I pretend to think about my answer. "I can't ride a bicycle."

She almost sputters her drink. "I'm sorry … what?"

"You heard me."

She recovers and pats the top of my hand as if consoling me. "I'm really sorry to hear about your plight," she squeaks out, giggling.

I momentarily note her eyes sparkle when she giggles. I also feel the softness of her hand, wishing they were wrapped around my cock rather than the fork hovering near her mouth.

_What? _

_Like I said: a man can hope, can't he?_

"Your turn. Tell me something that embarrasses you?"

She puts the fork down and looks around the room, lowering her voice. I'm forced to lean in to hear her. Her scent hits me like a two-ton truck.

"I'm blind as a bat. Can't see a thing without these," She pulls out a pair of glasses from her purse, and then, quickly tries put them away.

"Hey, let me see those?" I demand, stretching my hand out. She reluctantly drops them in my waiting palm and begins eating again.

"These are cute."

"Puppies are cute," she mumbles.

"I bet these will look hot on you."

Shit, I'm can't believe I just blurted that out when it should have been kept in my brain.

"They don't really go with my outfit, you know?" she bemoans, taking them back.

"But if you don't put them on, how can you see how drop dead sexy I am?" I boast, leaning back in the chair.

I think she mutters, "A blind person can see that."

We go back and forth a few more times. She tells me about her nervousness about Vassar, and I tell her that I love to sketch, which surprises me because only Ma knows my secret.

I shake my head at the surprising turn of events. I'm actually having a good time.

If this is 'dating', then maybe … I could … possibly do this more often, _I think, _as long as I'm sitting across from Isa, that is.

"Oh, my goodness, look at the time."

Shrugging because I really could care less. "You have some place else to be?"

She shakes her head, grinning.

"I'm free and this is fun," I lower my voice, saying that last word kind of chafes to admit out loud. "Let's finish our game. It's my turn."

"No, you cheater, it's my turn," she retorts, laughing.

"Whoa … no need for the name calling," I throw my hands in the air. "I never called you blind Bartimaeus, now did I?" I smirk as the laughter dies on her lips.

"And just how do _you_," She emphasizes, throwing me a skeptical look, "know about blind Bartimaeus?"

"What's with the judgmental tone?" I grin. "Can't I know who he was?"

Her eyes squint slightly. "You don't look like you've been anywhere near a church or a Bible. So, I'd be interested to know how you know him."

I haven't been to a church in years.

_Actually since Me-Maw took me to Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem._

"Aww. Who's Me-Maw?"

I hadn't realized I'd slipped again, letting her into my private thoughts.

"No one."

Her tone softens; the teasing tone is gone. "Who is she, Masen?"

"I said no one," I spit out angrily.

"Hey, I'm sorry … you don't have …"

Her hand curl over my fisted one atop the table, and strangely, my anger begins to dissipate.

Looking down at her hand, I wonder what this dark-haired beauty is doing to me. "When exactly," I clear my throat of the lump of something lodged there. "Do you leave for Vassar?"

"Um … August twenty-ninth. Why?"

"Oh, nothing." I gently turn our hands over, switching their position, and now I'm rubbing hers.

_That gives me two weeks and a day..._

∞∞∞Falling∞∞∞

**Two weeks later …**

_I don't know what I was thinking._

Slamming down the hood of Alice's Toyota Corolla, I regret allowing myself to be conned into this job. For the past two weeks, I've been ordering parts, calling in favors, and basically giving away my labor for free. The car has a new engine; the oil has been changed; including its filters; and it has a general tune-up.

_I'm beat_.

I've worked non-stop to return her car in a safe, working order. A new car is going to be my recommendation, because this piece of shit, nine-year old model, with more than a hundred thousand miles won't last much longer.

When she picks up it up today, I'll hand over her keys and that's it—no bill for services rendered. I've worked on her car like I'm a pro-bono lawyer. And what have I gotten for my troubles? All I've been getting for my hard work is Alice's & JC's gratitude; when that's _not_ even what I want. If I tell you what I want … but, what the hell do I care what you think of me? I know what I want and it's the _only_ reason why JC thinks _he_ convinced me to work on this car.

I want inside of Isa … there, I said it. And, fuck you if you think I'm a dog.

I'm making an exception to my rule of no brunettes.

I'm doing this because I _have _to have her. Her body in that checkered yellow and white skirt has been plaguing my thoughts … my dreams ever since. The sad thing is: Isa is everywhere except in my reality. I've not seen or heard from her since our 'date', and frankly, I'm a little pissed.

She has me so tightly wound that I can't think straight; eating has become damn near impossible; and, now, she's messing with my mojo.

Last week, I was getting busy with Legs—don't ask me what the hell her name is because I don't know it—and I couldn't seal the deal. I was harder than Chinese fucking math, got Legs off twice, but I still couldn't come. Only when I closed my eyes, imaging a dark-haired girl with aquamarine-colored eyes was I able to seal the deal. _And_, that's never happened to me.

Never.

Accidentally, I'm experiencing a lot of my firsts with Isa: my first date, my first time remembering a girl's name, my first time—dare I admit it—missing someone, and my first time wanting to be with a dark-haired chick.

_This shit is for the birds_ I silently fume heading outside. It was almost quitting time for the guys, and I could hear many of them putting away tools, preparing to leave for the day.

_What to do? What to do?_

JC has picked up on my unspoken desire to hear about Isa, so over the week, he's been dropping hints about her absence. But, really, it's simply bullshit lines Alice tells him.

_Isa is busy_.

_Isa is packing. _

_Isa went to Manhattan to meet some alumni group. _

Isa this … Isa that.

I call it all bullshit. I know bullshit when I hear it—hell, Ellie was the biggest bull shitter I knew and I could always tell when she was pulling shit out of her ass to con Me-Maw out of a few bucks. _And_, I wasn't seven damn years old.

I blow out an exaggerated breath, craving a cigarette. A week ago, Carlisle, my adoptive father, made the mistake of calling _me_ an addict—a cigarette addict. I dropped it quickly, vowing to show him I'm not an addict.

_Nothing_ controls me.

Well, nothing except this whole Isa situation—my yearning, for some strange reason—to see her makes me really want a loosie, just to calm my damn nerves.

"There he is. I told you he was around here somewhere." I hear the JC's laboring breath as if he ran a mile looking for me.

Spinning around, to give him a verbal lashing about the mess he's put me in, and yes, I'm blaming him for bringing Isa into my life—I quickly swallow the f bombs I planned on firing at him.

The person standing beside him stops my planned tirade.

We both continue to stare at each other, silently. I know I look filthy, but I see her eyes take on a heated glare as she looks at me from head to toe. She's in another body-hugging skirt, top and a pair of heels that lengthen her legs, while at the same time enhance their muscled definition.

She comes forward, stopping a few inches from me, and I can smell the perfume she's wearing. Through the lenses of her glasses I can see that her eyes look contrite.

"Hi."

I grunt out a response, not because I'm trying to playing it cool—well, that's partly a reason—but more so because I'm tongue-tied seeing her in the glasses. They make her look innocent and sexy at the same time. A combination I've rarely seen or been attracted to in the women I associate with.

"Come home with me," I blurt out unexpectedly.

I sound like some thirsty fool who's never been with a woman before.

She takes a step back, as if shocked by my request. I mentally shrug at my idiotic request, blaming it on the glasses that are confounding me.

This people is another first.

If she accepts, she'll be the first woman outside of Ma, to come inside my home.

The more I think about seeing her inside, where I live, the greater I want her to tell me yes.

I take a step closer, not wanting to be overheard.

"Come home with me," I repeat, lowering my voice and praying she gives me the answer I desire.

To my ears, I sound pleading … desperate … borderline, humbling. Three emotions I've rarely exhibited in my twenty-four years.

_What the hell? And only with a goddamn, lame-ass hi, and a nerdy glasses._

I'll never understand why she nods her head in agreement, but when she does, I reward her with my mile-wide smile that I'm certain the residents in Florida can see.

"Let me freshen up." I move to step past her, but an afterthought stops me. "Can you cook?"

"Nope," she replies, rocking on her heels slightly as if proud of her declaration. The small smile, which I'd never admit that I like, lifts the corner of her lips seductively.

_Another bunch of damn firsts … I'll have my first dinner guest, who isn't a family member, who's also dark-haired, inside my home … that I'll cook for. _

"Give me thirty minutes. Wait in the front, yeah?" I yell over my shoulder, walking away.

Running up the stairs that lead to the private offices, I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack, and it has nothing to do my sprint-like dash. I'm a ball of nerves, which has never happened to me. Entering the bathroom, I look in the mirror, giving myself a silent pep talk.

_You've got this! _

_Calm the hell down._

_She's just a chick, Mase_.

Unfortunately, none of this works to slow the beats of my heart or kill my raging hard-on.

Stripping out of my clothes, I enter the shower, and let the water beat on my back. Slowly, my breathing becomes regulated. No need to shower with my cock standing at full-mast. So I take matters into my hands as I imagine that my rough fingers are really softer ones that belong to a girl with blue-green eyes.

∞∞∞Falling∞∞∞

"Wow, this taste so good," she tells me, biting into the salmon.

We are currently sitting on my patio. The Hudson River flows miles below us, as well as parts of New Jersey's scenery, completes the breathtaking backdrop to the ambiance I've set up.

"I'm glad you like it." I spear a piece of the broccoli and put it in my mouth.

The smile she's worn since we arrived at my condo is on full display for my enjoyment. "Who taught you to cook?"

Swallowing some mash potato, I use the napkin to wipe the corner of my lips. "Are we going to play question and answer, again?" I wonder, smirking at her.

"Um," she responds, forking another piece of salmon, "If you want to."

"Sure, I'm game." I refill both our glasses with more wine.

There's a gentle breeze today, tempering the warm August evening. The breeze is also blowing Isa's curly tendrils all over her face. A closer look at her hair and I determine that it's more appropriate to describe it as obsidian, than mahogany. I guess the few wisps of hair blowing in her face is becoming bothersome because she takes a black hair tie from her wrist, and right before my eyes, she's now sporting a ponytail.

_I really don't have a clue what she is doing to me._

The littlest things she does captivate me.

I easily overlook her hair color … the one I'd sworn I'd never so much as give a glance at. In all truthfulness, the hair color that I detest on everyone _except_ Isa, is the one thing that reminds me so much, and painfully so, of my drug-addicted, so called mother. And I use the term loosely.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" she asks quietly.

_Do I tell her she's making me break all my rules? _

_Do I tell her that her mere presence calms me; which is a feat only two other women in my life have ever been able to accomplish? _

_Do I tell her that I'm scared shitless by all that I'm feeling in the two weeks she's entered my life?_

Instead of the truth, I deflect, chuckling. "Are you ready to start? Ladies first."

"Okay …" She taps her forefinger on her chin. "What's another thing that would surprise me about you?"

_That's easy_. For this I don't have to lie.

"Besides my Ma, you're the only woman I've had up here."

Instead of responding to me, the disbelief is etched prominently on her face. It makes me want to reassure … convince her I'm not a lying bastard.

"That's the truth. No other bit …" I catch myself, choosing to use a different word. "No one else has been here." I end uncomfortably, because now she'll think she's special … well she is, but I'll never tell her that shit.

Her smile is indescribable.

No, I take that back, her smile is effervescent. I shift in my seat because the smile went straight to my cock, swelling almost painfully. Looking for a distraction, I ask, "What would surprise me about you?"

She looks thoughtful for a moment. The way her faces lights up, I can see the imaginary bulb indicating she has something in mind.

"Don't laugh, okay?" she begs, continuing to smile.

"Scouts honor." I give her the official sign with a smile of my own.

"I suck at math, even though I was in advanced placement calculus."

"That," I inquire, biting my lip to hold in my laughter. "That's what would surprise me? Not that you snore or your shoe size is that of a clown's?" I can't help it … I laugh out loud at her ridiculous 'surprise'.

"Hey," she chokes out through her laughter, throwing the napkin at my head. "I'm sharing here." Her shoulders shake because she's laughing so hard.

As soon as I hear the snort come out of my mouth, I relax even further, and I know I made a good decision—albeit an impulsive one—inviting her.

Wiping away all trace of laughter from my voice, I tell her sincerely, "I'm glad you're here."

She dips her head downward, looking intently at her plate. "Me too."

**Later on in the night …**

Many glasses of wine later, we've moved indoors, sitting companionably on the sofa in front of my fireplace. She graciously offered to do the dishes, since I cooked, but like a gentleman, I declined. We're currently competing with each other over who can tell the corniest knock knock jokes. The winner is determined when the other person laughs at said joke while the loser has to take a shot.

Not realizing how competitive she is, I was only leading by a point with thirteen. All I have left are dirty jokes, hopefully I'll make it to fifteen—which is our cut-off to declare a winner—before I have to resort to those. Win or lose, it is good to watch her eyes light up in such a way that they rival any precious stone in any book I've ever seen.

"Okay, okay," she yells, laughing along the way. "Here's one: Knock knock?"

"Who's there?"

"Yah."

"Yah who?

"Nah, buddy, I prefer Google." She burst out laughing. "Get it? Yahoo. Google."

"Heard that before. Not funny," I reply, biting my inner cheek so that I don't join her in her laughter.

"Damn," she mutters, sighing, "I thought I had you with that one." She shakes her head, clears her throat, and quickly swallows.

As her mouth opens, I imagine all kinds of other things … my fingers, my dick, my nipple … besides the liquid that's slipping down her throat.

"That's fourteen for me." I snicker just so my mind doesn't go further with my thoughts. "Here's mine: Knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"Dwayne."

"Dwayne who?"

"Dwayne the bathtub, I'm drowning."

"Heard it before. Not funny," she restates my line with an impish grin on her lips.

I'm glad she's loosened her hair from that restrictive hair tie. I like how her curls frame her face. A few buttons on her jean shirt have come loose and I can see her nude bra. Her glasses are on top of her head, in her hair.

She rubs her hand together as if she's got the one joke that will tie us up … ah, _shit that's not what I meant_. _I mean, I don't even know if she's into the whole bondage scene_ …

"Knock, knock."

Her question jars my inner train of thought from the erotic journey it wanted to go on. Clearing my thoughts, I mumble, "Who's there?"

"Anita."

"Anita who?" I take a sip of my bottled water.

She smirks. "Anita dick inside me!"

The water in my mouth spews onto her shirt, she's laughing, and I'm choking.

_Did she just say she needs a dick inside of her?_ I'm mentally hyperventilating, contemplating my next move. _Fuck it_ … might as well be up front.

"How 'bout mine?" I inquire.

"What?" she whisper-yells, leaning back into the couch.

Scooting closer to her, I finger a few of her long curls, twirling them around my finger. "We both know where we want this to end, Isa, right?"

"Um …" Her tongue slips for her lips, moistening them.

The lust radiating from her body and eyes pull me toward her. I lean in, sniffing … just breathing in her Isa scent; my hand lands on her thigh.

"Truth time. I'll go first. I've been dying to see what's under this," I confess, sliding my hand up over her skirt, "since this afternoon."

"Ah …"

"Come on, you can tell me," I whisper encouragingly.

Her tongue comes out again, but this time she uses it to slowly lick her lip. "I've wanted to see more of this," her hand trails up my forearm then grips my muscled appendage, "since this afternoon."

I pull her over my lap so that she straddles me. Her skirt rides up, exposing her gorgeous thighs and her ass. I run my hand over them, choosing to rest my hands on her ass cheeks. I pluck the thin strip of material that is between her cheeks.

"Isa, if you don't want what's about to happen next, now is the time to speak up."

She pushes my head backward, sucking on my Adam's apple.

_Shit_.

Her hand tugs my shirt over my head. I feel her stare, then hear her audible gasp as she takes in the breadth of my chest. I relax and let her eyes freely roam, something I've never allowed another woman to do.

Right over my heart, a little over four and a half inches in length and three and a half inches in width, is my beauty. Hand drawn to perfection is a three-dimensional, cracked heart mimicking the exact dimensions of the real one that beats below my skin. It took me six months to sketch it perfectly. Thick, red blood flows through it and can be seen through the fractures. The fractures in my heart … in my tattoo … look life-like. One person told me their fear of touching it because it looked as if the broken edges would cut you simply by passing your hand over the image.

Her nail traces the edges of a few lines, stopping at each break … and, there are a lot of breaks in this tattooed heart; because, well, there are many breaks in my real one, too.

Next her eyes land on the small, cursive words: 'family means forever'. Running under my right lower pectoral, near my lung, these words remind me to breathe … that I finally have people that will always be there for me. They are the words Ma recited when we all signed the adoption papers. Isa's finger follow along each letter, and I see the questions lurking in her eyes. Her gaze comes back to mine, and I try to hold it together.

Taking up the expanse of my abdominal muscles is the landscape of my hometown, etched in black with razor sharp lines. The Empire State Building, stands in the middle, tall and proud while Lady Liberty is in the forefront, looking regal and protective. In the background, red and orange flames billow from the sides and top of the now fallen Twin Towers. The George Washington Bridge is positioned in front of the buildings, reminding me of the days my family and I drove over the bridge to New Jersey. She touches the metal links and the cement blocks, all shadowed on purpose, and I hear a whispered: "cool". Just two months ago, I added the cherry-colored 1960 Chevy Impala, the first car I restored by myself, that looks like it's going too fast, and is about to cause major havoc. She takes her time looking at all the detail in the motif … my tribute to the city that never sleeps. When I notice the tears that pool in her eyes, I know the tattoo connects us, because it's a testament to our shared pride.

Shifting my position, her eyes slant down to my left hip bone where the sketched replica of my baby, my Beretta PX4 Storm, sits in all its charcoal-colored glory. Finding the right color to match my drawing took months, and it was a bitch to sit through the sessions, but I'm happy with the end result. Strangely, just having this ink here makes me feel proud to be a card-carrying member of the NRA. A groan leaves my lips as I feel the pads of her fingertips trace the contours of the gun and my hip bone.

The bold look in her eyes, the biting of her lip, and the smirk around her lips goes straight to my cock. I push upward, letting her feel how everything she's doing affects me.

My movement diverts her eyes lower, and they land on my most recent ink. Her head dips down, taking in the words that run eight inches in length from right hip bone near my …

"Holy hell. Is that … do you have suck my …" She swallows and closes her eyes.

Even in the dim light, I see the blush that blossoms instantly on her face as she gets the meaning. I can't take anymore of her slow perusal that leave me harder than I've ever been before.

"Open your eyes."

When she opens them, there's a mixture of a few emotions that I choose not to linger on; instead, I settle on the one that's most familiar and safe: desire.

"Take your shirt off."

She leans away from me, pulling her shirt out of her skirt, and unbuttons it. I still her movements with my hand, holding it in place by putting my hand on hers. With my free hand, I splay it on her upper chest. Her breaths are coming in uneven, and sensuously jiggling her breasts. I run my hand down the crease, keeping my eyes on her. My hand creeps over to her puckered nipple that is visible through the bra. Her eyes close again as soon as my nail grazes the material over her sensitive nipple and she shivers and swallows.

"Isa, open your eyes … watch me."

She does as I command.

Bending my head forward, I latch my lips around the material, wetting her nipple. I hear a moan, but I'm not satisfied, so I move the bra to the side, revealing her to me. The areola is about a quarter-size in diameter and is dark brown. Her nipple extends proudly, begging for my lips to suck on them. Which I do.

"Ah …"

I release her hand and now both my hands are free as I unclasp her bra. The sheer weight and size of her breasts makes me drool.

Lightly pinching the right nipple between my thumb and index finger, I ask, "What size are you?"

"Hmm … oh … ah," She clears her throat. "34C." Her eyes are cloudy with passion.

"Nice." I gently shake both globes, squeezing them together, as I suck on the nipples.

"Um, Mase …"

"I've been longing to do this." I release her breasts, shaking my head side to side between them.

"Mase … I've never … this is my—"

Shushing her with a finger on her mouth, which she takes between her plump lips, "No more talking, only feeling."

I lightly tap her on the butt, indicating for her to stand. She steps back and slips off her shoes, which puts her a foot or so shorter than me. I tower over her, and I like the feeling. Usually, the women I've been with have been closer to my height of six feet four inches. I circle her waist, again, going behind her to unzip her skirt. She wiggles her hips to get the skirt off and then, sheds the shirt and bra.

Grabbing her hand, I walk us to the bedroom.

My hand quickly finds the light switch, choosing the dimmer setting. I walk her over to my California bed and I release her hand. I step back as she sits down then push her backward, until she's lying flat on her back with one knee bent. In her position and from where I am, I can see that her natural body juices have colored the seat of her thong slightly.

My dick twitches.

My filter is non-existent. Things I've never done become a must _now_. "Can I taste you?"

Her head pops up. "Huh?"

"I want to taste you."

Her top teeth bites down on her bottom lip. "Ah … I …"

By the time she's finished speaking, I've already knelt between her thighs. I push her further up the bed, almost near the headboard. My sandals slip off my feet making a loud noise on the hardwood floor.

I'm no saint, and I'm not claiming any virginity status. I've been around the block a few times with countless of faces. But, since the age of fifteen when I first discovered the pleasures found between a woman's legs, there are two things that I _just_ will not … have never considered doing.

I don't kiss on the lips.

And, I don't eat pussy.

Too intimate, too personal; and I don't do personal.

The pussy is for screwing, and always with protection.

So what my tongue is itching to do … what I'm dying to do is so damn foreign, I blubber my way through my request, too afraid to raise the volume of my voice in case she tells me no.

"I've never … but, you … this," I confess, waving to her lower half, "makes me long for my tongue to be deep inside of you."

I'm not sure if it's my desperate words, or she's just that worked up, but as I rub my finger over her thong, she gushes, wetting it.

_Nice_. _She likes it already_ …

Using my finger, I push her underwear to the side, and notice how smooth she is. Pushing more of the garment to the side, I inspect further and chuckle at the landing strip design.

"Hold this." I tug her underwear, so she knows what I'm talking about.

As soon as she secures her thong as I want it, I tentatively lick her slit.

It goes straight to my already granite-like length.

A bit sweaty, but her natural scent overshadows that. Encouraged, I use my finger to widen her and am greeted with a lovely shade of pink that looks mouthwatering, and there's a cute little mole on the inside of her right lip.

Near her clit.

Black.

Round.

So fucking lickable.

_What the hell_?

"You have a mole … inside your …" I can't finish my sentence. What I'm looking at is the single, most erotic thing I've seen in all of my sexual encounters.

And, I've seen a lot of shit.

She has no idea what she is doing to me.

"I …" She squirms. "Please … stop looking."

"Why? It's fucking cute."

But, I don't think she hears me because I'd already latched onto her clit by then.

I had two fingers at her entrance and I tried to put them in but was only able to go nail length.

_Damn, she's tight_.

Switching to only one, I settle on my middle finger and even then, I was only able to go in a little bit. Concentrating on her clit, I use my other hand to open that part of her body even more. Pulling back slightly, it's like her clit is hidden. I'm determined to suck it out of its hiding place and enjoy myself completely.

I've worked hard to get this.

Two dates, a home cooked meal, and her making me wait for two weeks.

Yeah, I've earned this.

Increasing the suction of my mouth, I put all my efforts on her hidden bud. I'm rewarded by her juice coating my finger, allowing me to push further inward.

"Oh … my … what are you …" she babbles.

The smell of her is intoxicating, her taste is one of a kind, and the way she clenches around my finger is addictive.

_She's loving this as much as I am._

I get into a nice rhythm between me fingering her and sucking on her clit, and she almost bucks me off her but I hold her down by her stomach. I quickly pull my finger out of her, as her head thrashes side to side and my request of holding her underwear to the side forgotten, and spread her lips further apart. Her clit is engorged and I see it's a dusty pink color just like the insides of her pussy lips.

_Shit_.

I close my lips over it, using my tongue to pull it more into my mouth, as I suck harder. A few seconds later, a gush enters my mouth as she yells.

I'm not satisfied.

I need more.

I deserve more.

There has to be more. I want more … inside of my mouth.

I hold her legs apart, and in place, further sucking on her as I ram my finger, knuckle deep, inside her.

_This time, I have to feel how she feels when she comes_.

I suck her clit like I'm a pro at this when this is my first time. My fingers continue their tender seesaw motion. Her body gives me what I desire … what I'm most intrigued over: her juices coat my lips as she seizes my finger inside of her.

_Fuck me. _Never before have I ever felt so triumphant making a woman come as I am now.

I feel like a king.

The way her legs shakes makes me feel like the motherfucking king of pussy eating … on my first try.

_I'm_ making her body quiver.

_I'm_ making her see stars if the whites in her eyes are an indication.

_I'm_ the one making her unable to catch her breath.

I feel more like myself now.

I slowly pull out of her as I hear her making incoherent noises. I take my time licking my fingers. Looking deep into her eyes, I step out of our last clothing barrier, my shorts. I didn't bothered to put any underwear on when I'd showered earlier.

_I really want to try something else with her._

"Isa, are you …" In my nervousness, my voice cracks. Instead of revealing the truth, I lie. "I'm out of condoms ..."

She's smart, this isn't her first time … she should know what I'm asking.

She props herself up on bended elbows to look at me. "You're … out … ah ... what?"

"I'm clean. Are you?"

_Please say yes. _

_Please say fucking yes._

"Pill … I've never … yeah, I'm, um … okay …" she squeaks out, muffling the last part of her sentence in the pillow she's thrown over her head.

Dismissing everything she said and honing in on her giving me the green light, I grab my cock.

"I really want to hit it … um, I really want to feel all of you … just you." I ease part of my head into her, pushing the head inside.

"Yeah … ah, yes … just, oh God, slow … go slow," she chokes out, just as I try to move forward some more.

Beads of sweat form on my forehead, despite the central air being on. I push some more. "Fuck, your pussy is tight."

I'm only halfway inside her, and she's choke-holding the hell out of my cock in a very pleasurable way. Leaning on my forearms to keep most of my weight off of her, I see unshed tears in her eyes.

Leaning into her, but keeping the majority of my weight off her, I go for her lips and tenderly kiss her, sucking on her lower , I like kissing her. She tastes like some of the wine from earlier, and like cherries … maybe she'd worn cherry lip-gloss. Angling my head, I deepen our kiss, letting her take the lead.

_This makes it even feel better._

I hear muffled groans; I feel her wetness coating me, making it easier to slide forward. Gripping her thigh, I hike it up, reveling in its smoothness, as her tongue plays with mine. I surge forward, and I go all the way in.

Being inside of her … is like nothing I've ever felt before.

She mumbles something, but I'm not sure what it is because I feel like I'm on sensory overload. Her nails rake down my spine then she palms my ass cheeks, pulling me inside of her additive warmth. She throws back her head, grunting words of encouragement. When she squeezes my cock, locking me inside of her as she comes, it takes _all_ my years of sexual know how, not to come with her … and especially not inside of her.

As her muscles release me, I quickly pull out, coming on her stomach. I roll off her, taking her with me.

_That was good_ … _so fucking good!_

I notice that her curly hair is a little matted on top of her head. I push the few tendrils from her face, kissing her forehead. My hand have a mind of its own, and trails down her back, holding onto one an ass cheek. I lightly tap it, wishing I could see it jiggle.

I plant another kiss on her head as the feeling of contentment spreads from my toes to my … well, it's just fucking spreading.

"Thank you," she whispers.

Biting the bullet, I realize I'm sweating just thinking the thoughts that I'm about to reveal. "Isa … I want to …" _Get a coherent thought, Mase_. "I know you're going away, but Poughkeepsie is only an hour or so away. I could … we could … you know, if you want to do that. Would you … um, want to?"

_Please say yes. _

_Please say fucking yes. 'Cause I want more of this… more of you and this body_

Light snores greet me as I turn my face toward her and see she's sleeping.

Curving her to my side, I feel really contented.

Usually, I'm the first one dressed and half way out of the door right after I've gotten what I wanted. But, Isa makes me want to burrow further into her … in her presence.

We'll talk in the morning.

∞∞∞Falling∞∞∞

**Early the next morning …**

Groaning, I rub my face, then scratch my chest, palming my dick—all part of my morning ritual.

I run my hand to my right to pull Isa to me, but hit only a cold spot.

_Huh?_

Picking my head up, I open an eye in her direction. "Isa?"

No warm body.

I'm wide awake now.

_Maybe she's in the bathroom._

I glance at the clock on my nightstand, seeing it reads 6:00 am. I yell her name.

If she's in the bathroom, she'll definitely hear that. But, I hear no response.

Heart in my throat, I speed out of the bedroom, heading into the living room.

Her clothes are gone.

On the table, in front of the fireplace, something yellow catches my attention. Going closer, I see she's spelled out thank you on eight pieces of sticky note papers using a smiley face for the 'o'.

_What the fuck?_

Who leaves a thank you on a sticky?

If it wasn't happening to me, this would totally be a move I'd pull after a one night stand.

In the harsh light of the early morning, I look down and see blood on my dick.

She leaves me leaves me with a bloody dick and a smiley face thank you.

_Who does that?_

My hand clutches my heart, and I wonder what the hell just happened.

She's gone … and I have no idea how she mind fucked me so easily.

**A/N:** Put this on alert if you want more. Once I finish The Songs of Our Lives, my WIP, then I will begin sharing this story that has plagued me for weeks. Pics to come on the blog of course.


	2. Chapter 1 - Meeting Isabella Swan

**DISCLAIMER: **_Twilight,_ and the characters of _Twilight_, belongs to the brilliant author, Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended.

**Characters:**

JC - Jasper Carlisle Cullen

Mase - Masen Cullen

Cee - Carlisle Cullen

Allie Cat – Alice Swan

**A typical Thursday afternoon, August 2009**

Closing the hood of Mr. Chase's Jaguar®, I hear someone's hurried footsteps

"Right this way, ladies. He should be around here somewhere …"

_Sounds like JC is bringing some company._

I can't imagine who he's talking with, and truthfully, I can't make myself care.

I've been working on this car for the last two weeks. Just a few hours ago, I finally figured out a faulty micro switch is causing the gearbox to select the wrong gears. I'll be glad to get rid of this car. The machine I can handle because that's my specialty, but Mr. Chase's wife is becoming a royal pain in my ass.

I sleep with her a few times, and fuck me, now I can't get rid of her!

_I'll have Claire call his office, telling him it's ready for pick up on—_

My rambling thought is interrupted when JC loudly states, "Here he is."

Taking out the rag I keep in my back pocket, I wipe off the grease from my hands and turn in his direction. Beside him is a dark hair girl in khaki shorts and a bright top. My eyes move on quickly from her to the one in the checked yellow skirt. I'm drawn to her even though she's partially hidden. Her exposed legs pull in my gaze and I notice her skin. How it glistens as if it's kissed by the sun each morning, making her complexion more of a lightly, toasted almond.

Her head remains bent, her eyes downcast. My eyes make their way up her body, and that's when I see it.

Her most unattractive feature—_her hair color_!

Granted, the curling waves give it an unusual bounce and the braid on one side tells me she's not some suburban, beauty queen … but the fact remains, I don't do brunettes.

_What a __waste that was__ of a few good seconds of my life_, I think dispassionately.

She almost had me, too.

I force myself to look away from her and to JC. He walks toward me with an extended hand.

"Brother …"

_Now, I know this asshole wants something_.

"What do you want?" I ask. My voice sounds gravelly, since I've been under the Jag all morning.

He grins because he knows I'm on to him and whatever game he's about to run.

"Is that any way to greet me?" he replies sarcastically.

I shift from one foot to the other in irritation.

Before I can attempt to answer him, my attention is diverted to the girl in the yellow again. She's inspecting the garage, and in doing so, has come further inside. Looking at her side profile with its dips and curves makes my fingers itch for my sketching pad. For some strange reason, I'm not so bothered by _her_ hair as much. My gaze drops back to her body, greedily enjoying every bit of what I can imagine is under that skirt and white top. She's curvaceous. If I had to guess, I'd say she was about a size eight.

In my mind's eye, I can see her toned legs wrapped around me as I stroke her calf muscles and palm her tits. Now, those have to be at least a 36C.

_I see myself grabbing hold of her succulent ass cheeks and_— 

"Earth to Mase. Hello …"

I feel my temper rise at being interrupted from my daydream. Shaking those errant thoughts out of my head, I mentally remind myself that I don't do brunettes. I restate my question to him, and he asks the mother lode of a request, even for JC.

"You see, I picked up these girls from the side of—"

"Say what now?"

_He picked them up. I just knew brunettes couldn't be trusted. They're probably fucking hookers on their way to Hunts Point_ [1]_!_

I don't bother to let their innocent features lull me away from my belief about their profession.

"Let me finish man. They were having car trouble, broke down on their way to Orchard Beach," He looks back, winking at the girls. "So I had the car towed here. Told them we'd fix it for 'em."

I raise my brow at his terminology. 'We' wouldn't be fixing anything because he knows shit about cars.

He sees my facial expression, quickly amending his words. "I mean you … I told them you'd fix it for them." He chuckles, rubbing the back of his head as if he's embarrassed to admit that in front of them.

The fucker!

I step toward him, trying to guess his angle. I know my brother, and he's no goddamn Good Samaritan or knight in shining armor. I just need to figure out if he's after the one in the shorts or the one in the skirt. And depending on who it is, would most certainly impact my decision.

_Cause if it's the one in the yellow skirt …_

"Jazzy told us so much about your work," the one in the shorts gushes, coming over to us.

_Jazzy?_ I smirk at him, silently questioning his newfound nickname. He's always been JC to everyone that knows him.

'Jazzy' grabs her hand, giving it a peck.

_So, he wants the one in the shorts. Good because the other one is ..._

JC looks at her, asking me, "Look at it Mase. Allie Cat really needs her car."

_Allie Cat?_

I feel like I'm in an episode of _Twilight Zone_. 'Jazzy' is acting like a pussy-whipped fool right before my eyes, and I can't understand it. My mind wonders whether they fucked on their drive to the shop, or maybe he got some road head that turned him into an idiot.

_I've heard that _some_ pussy will do that, never experienced it myself though. _

I rule out the pussy and the road head, remembering the one in the yellow skirt was with them. Giving up trying to figure out JC, I grunt a response, walking past the lovebirds.

_Is she a mute or something?_ _Fucking say __something,_ I silently beg without actually saying the words. Hoping my stance and pointed stare at her convey my non-verbal question and request.

As if she hears my internal ranting, her head pops up, and she looks me square in the eyes. Her eye color is aquamarine. _Fuck me._ They pull me in and make me feel as if I can see deep within her soul.

"Hi," she says, sharing a small smile and a wave.

I'm dumbfounded by her eyes and that stupid wave—and repeat her line like an idiot. "Hi."

She reduces me to a goddamn pre-teen, seeing his crush for the first time, instead of the twenty-four year old man that I am.

I blink a few times to get some control over my tongue and mind. "Show me the car," I bark out, pointing for her to walk in front of me.

The smile leaves her face instantly as she leads me to the car. "Asshole," she mutters under her breath, but still within my hearing range.

I'm too caught up in the sway of her hips and the jiggle of her butt to do anything but follow.

_She must be wearing a thong. _

_Or maybe … dear God, could she be without any underwear? _

Groaning silently, I pull out my shirt tail from my pants to cover the growing bulge between my legs. This is the first time that someone with her horrendous hair coloring of hers is getting my dick hard. The lovebirds follow behind me, whispering and laughing like two morons.

We get to where Mike, our tow guy, has left the car. It's then that I see it, parked amongst the high end vehicles we work on daily … looking so out of place; a 2003 Toyota Corolla that looks as if it has seen a shitload of better days.

_What the hell is JC thinking?_

I walk around the eyesore, shaking my head. I don't know why he'd tow this piece of shit here. At Sterling Auto Center, we only work on luxury models. Maybachs, Porsches, Jaguars, and Benzs … this crap should be donated for its scrap metal value to the nearest junkyard. Maybe, when Cee had first started out and was struggling for work, he would have taken in lower end cars, but those days are long gone. Whistling to get JC's attention, I jerk my chin for him to come over to me.

Yellow skirt steps backward to her friend.

Whispering as best as I could, I state the obvious because maybe he doesn't know since cars are not his area of expertise at the company. "We don't do Toyotas, man."

He puts his hand on my shoulder—we are easily eye-level—commenting, "But I know _you_ can work wonders."

I shrug his hands off because I'm in no mood to be his wingman so he can look like a hero and get some ass. I circle the car again. When I reach him, I tell him to pop the hood. He runs over to the girls, requesting the keys. As soon as the key hit the ignition, the engine struggles to turn over, and when it does, it sounds asthmatic.

_This is going to be a long, damn fix_.

Raking my hand through my hair, I slam the hood down, and tell him to turn it off. I look back, seeing the girl in the shorts is wringing her hands as the other one rubs her back—maybe to calm her down.

I walk over to them, stopping short. "I hate to tell you this, but you need a new engine, and it sounds like there are some other issues. I won't know until I take a closer look."

The one in the shorts suck in her breath, but the one in the yellow skirts responds. "How much do you think it will cost to fix?"

I hear the slam of the car door. JC runs over, handing the keys to the girl in the shorts ... _Allie Cat._

"It could be anywhere from seven hundred bucks to—"

"Seven hundred dollars … as in American dollars?" the one in the yellow skirt screeches.

"Maybe fifteen hundred," I continue, ignoring her interruption.

"Oh, jeez …" the one in the shorts stammers, putting a hand on her forehead, "Ah … I'm not sure … well, that's quite expensive …"

"Don't you worry 'bout a thing, darlin'. We'll take care of you," JC drawls as if he's from some goddamn southern state when the motherfucker was born right here in the Bronx.

"Whoa—"

"And, we'll even give you a loaner 'til my brother fixes your car."

_What the hell is he talking about?_

"Oh, thank you, Jazzy." She throws her hands around his shoulder, pulling him toward her for a kiss.

Not a minute later, I feel tiny hands and a warm body as she hugs the life out of me. For such a small person, she has the strength of a superhero.

Over her head, I see the steeled determination in JC's blue eyes, almost daring me to go against what he's just stated. A slight nod of my head tells him he's won this round. Looking to his left, I see the satisfied look on the one in the yellow skirt as if she is privy to the private power struggle between JC and myself.

Releasing her death hold around my waist, the one in the shorts exclaims, "This will make tonight even better."

_Tonight?_

She re-joins the duo.

The one in the yellow skirt clears up my confusion. "You know? The double date we're," she gestures with her forefinger amongst us, "all going on."

_Double date? _

_Tonight?_

[1] www . nytimes 2012 / 01 / 01 / nyregion / at-52-a-prostitute-still-working-the-streets . html?_ r=0 (remove spaces)

Thoughts? 

**A/N**: Story is beta'd by my road dog, SunFlower Fran. Check out my personal blog, luvtwilight4eva . blogspot . com, to meet the characters, read the story, and see what they see.


	3. Chapter 2 - There is a First time for Ev

**DISCLAIMER: **_Twilight,_ and the characters of _Twilight_, belongs to the brilliant author, Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended.

Characters

JC/Jazzy - Jasper Carlisle Cullen

Allie Cat - Alice Swan

Cee - Carlisle Cullen

EC – Emmett Carl Cullen

Ma - Esme Cullen

**I sent this to the beta with the words: only minor changes. She sent it back, telling me: more than minor changes from the contest entry. With that in mind, you can choose to read in full, skim, or skip since parts of this chapter was already included in the Mark Me contest. But, be forewarned, I have added to this chapter. Happy reading. **

Chapter Two – There is a First time for Everything: Part One

*the below is still the same day as in chapter one*

**A few hours later …**

"We're going to the bathroom, Jazzy," announces Allie Cat whose real name is Alice Swan.

We both stand as they leave the table, as Cee taught us. Sitting back down, I realize how tired I am. A waiter walks by the table, and I'm instantly reminded it's been awhile since I've ventured into City Island. It has been at least a year since I've been inside Sammy's Fish Box … not since Jane caused a scene after I fucked her in the bathroom, then, as soon as we returned to our table I reminded her we weren't ever going to be an item.

JC moans in delight at the dish he ordered to share with his date. I stare at his bent head, knowing he can feel my pointed gaze. After a while, he pops his head up, grinning at me.

"Why exactly am I your wingman tonight?"

This question has been on the tip of my tongue since learning about this 'date'.

He forks a jumbo fried shrimp and chews it slowly … all with his eyes closed, as if savoring the taste.

Following him, I take a taste of my seafood paella, shaking my head and silently thanking God for whoever the chef is at this restaurant. For as long as I've been coming to Sammy's, the food had_ always _been top-notch and served to perfection.

When he finally decides to respond, I'd almost forgotten my question, so lost was I in the food.

"Allie Cat only agreed if her sister could come. I told you I asked her out before I had the car towed."

_That's right__. _And now, I'm part of this travesty because my brother's date with Alice depended on his securing a date for her sister. And guess who was offered up as the sacrificial lamb?

I chuckle at his half-truth. "Not only am I a fake date for the sister, but I'm also her ride home, since you and Alice will probably be leaving soon." I glance down at my watch indicating that his time was up … that'd I've figured out my role tonight.

I'm glad he chooses to respond honestly, blurting out, "Right on both accounts. I really like Alice, bro. I think she could be the one." He gets a far-off look on his face.

As his brother, though I'm younger by two years, it's my job to reel him in when he gets too far gone, so I rely on the strategy JC, EC, and myself agreed on years ago.

I snap my fingers, gaining his attention. I look long and hard into his blue eyes. He doesn't blink, and his eyesight never wavers.

And, I know it.

He's telling the truth.

"Well, fuck me, man."

He looks away embarrassed, smiling nervously. "I know, right. And, in only one, damn day."

I swallow the pool of undefined emotion that lodged itself in my throat before I spoke, "Ma will be happy. She'll have you two married within a year."

The slight red tint on his cheeks and the bright smile on his lips that resembles a Cheshire cat speak volumes. He wants this girl. He _wants_ Alice.

"So, can you take Isa home?"

My mind conjures up her body in the yellow, checkered skirt again, and the yes tumbles from my lips hastily. If asked about my agreement, I plan on blaming it on beingbefuddled by her body.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

It has nothing to do with how her quiet beauty drew me in despite my personal, physical requirements of the women that I spend time with. Any other excuse would make me seem like a pussy … and I'm no pussy.

" … you and Isa …"

My hearing only picks up on three, simple letters: Isa.

The one that's given me a case of blue balls like no one has ever—and I do mean never, _ever_—before. 

Isa damn Swan.

Also, known as Isabella Swan.

We've been at here for about an hour now, and I still remember her entire name—which is a first for me. I've never bothered to remember chicks, choosing to call them by something that my brain will easily recall … most times it's based on a body part or a skill they're good at, if you catch my drift. I _never_ make the effort to remember any women's names.

But, Isa, there's something about her that makes me remember her name … even with her god awful hair color.

Just as I think about her, I see them both making their way back toward the table. Isa is in the front. Her hair is straight, parted in the center, and she's wearing my new favorite color—white. This dress is sinful. The front hugs her hips … succulently, making me think about placing my hands there, holding her in place while she rides me reverse cowgirl. The back dips so low that I can almost see the top part of her ass crack. Her spine is exposed, and I want to trail my fingertip along the ridges and lick up any sweat that gathers there from our combustive coupling.

_A man can imagine, can't he?_

Ever since getting out of my car at the restaurant and seeing her outfit, I have been imaging.

And ever since then, I've been adjusting myself on the sly—and often.

Like I said, the dress is sinful, but when you take in her face, along with the lack of purity found in her eyes, they do more to me than her wicked body in the dress. They beckon to me in a way that no one else has. The expressiveness in her eyes makes me wonder what she would look like early in the morning without any make-up.

JC and I both stand as the ladies re-join us. Once seated, I concentrate on my food and tune them out, thinking about my reaction to Isa.

" … Masen?"

I hear my name, but the swift kick to my shin really drags me from wherever I was, drawing my attention onto my 'date' who is now looking mischievous.

"That fucking hurts!" I scowl at Isa. 

A normal person's reactions to my scowl would have included a contrite look or a mumbled "sorry" or an "excuse me". Definitely the recipient of said scowl would have enough sense to leave me the hell alone. 

What she does when she sees my scowl is different … refreshing … yet, still goddamn annoying because of what _it_ does to me.

She laughs.

Not the cute, behind the hand laugh that I've seen on the big screen when a woman is trying to lure a man by her innocence.

Nor is it the kind of laughter that is pretend.

No, this one comes from her belly, making her shoulders shake. Tears fall from the sides of her eyes, and even the motherfucking snort coming from her lips swells my cock up even more. Her laughter dies down, and I realize they are waiting for me to say something. But, I haven't got a clue what was said, having been distracted by a girl, who on any other occasion, I'd never give the time of day.

I try to wipe the pained look from my face, and gather my wits about me.

"So, how old did you say you were again?" Alice inquires.

I angle my head toward her. "I didn't."

"He's twenty-four, Allie Cat," the Benedict Arnold, who used to be my brother, replies.

Alice uses her fork to lightly tap her lips, and there's a gleam in her eyes. "And, you," she confesses, pointing her fork at her sister, "will be eighteen in two, short weeks. This is perfect." She dances a little in her chair.

"What's newsworthy is not my upcoming birthday, but that I'll be going to Vassar in two, short weeks. Now that is perfect."

At the genuine smile that graces her face, I give her my undivided attention. "Vassar College, you don't say?"

Now, I'm really intrigued. _Booty ...er, I mean, beauty and brains. _

"It's nothing," she mumbles, shying away now that I'm giving her all my attention.

To my left, I hear chairs scrape against the tiled floor and murmured 'good byes', but I can't look away from Isa's eyes.

Impulsively, I grab her hand, massaging her fingers. "Where's that ballsy woman who just kicked me because I was being an asshole?" I tease her.

Her head comes up a little as she slowly removes her hand from mine. "She's still here. I don't like to talk about myself is all."

"You should be proud of your accomplishment. Getting into one of the Seven Sister Schools affiliated with Yale," I boast as if I'm the one attending the Ivy League college.

She waves off my compliment. "Yeah, yeah, tell me something about yourself."

I don't let go of her hand, storing away the feel of it in my memory bank**. **"Not much to tell. I work hard, play even harder, and just met an interesting young lady who refuses to talk about herself."

She eyes me warily, probably deciding on the reaction she'll exhibit. I smile my panty-dropping smile, which elicits a small smile of her own.

"Here's what we'll do …" She twirls some pasta around her fork, puts it in hermouth and proceeds to chew.

As she savors the taste, she has the most wonderful looking expression on her face. Only word to describe it: orgasmic.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

I fix my face, hating that I was caught staring like a lovesick fool. "Nothing," I lie, clearing my throat, "You were saying?"

"Oh, yes. We could do a question and answer. One question, one answer," she states, smiling; and it's like she has an afterthought, "And, _we _must be honest." She pulls her hand away from mine, and I realize I'd gotten used to feeling its warmth.

Shaking off my weird attachment to her hand, I grin, because she pointed her fork toward me when she ended her statement.

"Well, ladies first." I gesture good naturedly.

"What's one thing about you that would surprise me?"

I pretend to think about my answer. "I can't ride a bicycle."

She almost sputters her drink. "I'm sorry … what?"

"You heard me."

She recovers, patting the top of my hand as if consoling me. "I'm really sorry to hear about your plight," she squeaks out, giggling.

I noticehow her eyes sparkle when she giggles. The softness of her opened palm makes me wish it waswrapped around my cock rather than the fork hovering near her mouth.

_What? _

_Like I said: a man can imagine, can't he?_

"Your turn … tell me something that embarrasses you?"

She puts the fork down and looks around the room, lowering her voice. I'm forced to lean in to hear her. Her scent hits me like a two-ton truck.

"I'm blind as a bat; can't see a thing without these." She pulls out a pair of glasses from her purse, and then, quickly tries to put them away.

"Hey, let me see those." My out-stretched hand lets her know that no is not an option.

She reluctantly drops them in my waiting palm and begins eating again.

"These are cute."

"Puppies are cute," she mumbles.

"I bet these will look hot on you."

_Shit! _I'm can't believe I just blurted that out.

"They don't really go with my outfit, you know?"

Our hands brush against each other's as I return the glasses.

"But if you don't put them on, how can you see how drop dead sexy I am?" I boast, leaning back in the chair.

I _think _she mutters, "A blind person can see that."

We go back and forth a few more times, as she tells me her nervousness about Vassar, and I tell her my love for pencil sketching, which surprises me, because only Ma knows my secret.

I shake my head at the surprising turn of events. I am actually having a good time.

If this is 'dating', then maybe … I could … possibly, do this more often, _I think_, as long as I'm sitting across from Isa, that is.

"Oh, my goodness, look at the time."

Shrugging because I really could care less. My next question comes off a little cocky even for me. "You have some place better to go to?"

She shakes her head, grinning.

"I'm free, and this is fun," I lower my voice, because saying the last word kind of chafes to admit, out loud."Let's finish out game. It's my turn."

"No, you cheater, it's my turn," she retorts, laughing.

"Whoa … no need for the name calling," I throw my hands in the air. "I never called you blind Bartemaeus, now did I?" I smirk as the laughter dies on her lips.

"And just how do _you_," She emphasizes, throwing me a skeptical look, "know about blind Bartemaeus?"

"What's with the judgmental tone?" I grin. "Can't I know who he was?"

Her eyes squint slightly. "You don't look like you've ever been anywhere near a church or a Bible. So, I'd be interested to know just how _you_ know him."

I haven't been to a church in years.

_Actually since Me-Maw took me to Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem._

"Aww. Who's Me-Maw?"

I hadn't realized I'd slipped again, letting her into my private thoughts.

"No one."

Her tone softens; the teasing the tone is gone. "Who is she, Masen?"

The anger at her name, even after all the years, shakes me to the core. My words are harsher than I realize or intend. "I said no one."

"Hey, I'm sorry … you don't have …"

Her hand curl over my fisted one atop the table, and strangely, my anger begins to melt away.

Looking down at her hand, I wonder what this dark-haired beauty is doing to me. I come to a decision … a very rare one that I want to pursue. "When exactly," I clear my throat of the lump of nervousness that's suddenly decided to take residence there. "Do you leave for Vassar?"

"Um … August twenty-ninth. Why?"

"Oh, nothing." I gently turn our hands over, switching their position, and now I'm rubbing hers.

_That gives me two weeks and a day ..._

**A/N**: Story is beta'd by SunFlower Fran whom I cannot thank enough. Check the blog, luvtwilight4eva . blogspot p / falling . html (remove spaces) to see what they see.

One of these Lyrics to Life entry belongs to yours truly. Read and review here – www . fanfiction u / 5138297 / LyricsToLifeContest (remove the spaces).


	4. Chapter 3 - There is a First Time for Ev

**DISCLAIMER: **_Twilight,_ and the characters of _Twilight_, belongs to the brilliant author, Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended.

**Characters:**

JC - Jasper Carlisle Cullen

Allie Cat/Allie- Alice Swan

Isa - Isabella Swan

Ellie - a female close to Mase to be revealed later

Me-Maw - a female close to Mase to be revealed later

Cee - Carlisle Cullen

Ma - Esme Cullen

**Minor changes from my Mark Me submission (chapter one). You can read in full, skim, or skip until the next update. **

Chapter 3- There's a First Time for Everything: Part Two

**Two weeks later …**

_I don't know what I was thinking._

Slamming down the hood of Allie's Toyota Corolla, I regret allowing myself to be conned into this job. For the past two weeks, I've ordered parts, called in favors, and basically gave away my labor for free.

The car has a new engine; the oil has been changed including its filters, and I gave it a general tune-up.

_I'm beat_.

I've worked non-stop to return her car in a safe, working order. A new car is going to be my recommendation, because this piece of shit, six-year old model with more than a hundred thousand miles won't last much longer.

When she picks up the car in an hour, I'll hand over her keys, and that's it—no bill for services rendered. I've worked on her car like I'm a pro-bono lawyer. And what have I gotten for my troubles?

All I've been getting is Allie's & JC's gratitude, when that is not what I want.

If I tell you what I want … but, what the hell do I care what you think of me? I know what I want and it's the _only_ reason why JC thinks he convinced me to work on the car.

I want inside of Isa.

There, I said it.

And, fuck you if you think I'm a dog.

I'm going to make an exception to my rule of no brunettes, because I _have _to have her. Her body in that checked yellow and white skirt has been plaguing my thoughts … my damn dreams for two, fucking weeks.

The sad thing is: Isa is everywhere except in my reality. I've not seen or heard from her since our 'date,' and frankly, I'm pissed.

She has me so tightly wound that I can't think straight. Eating has become damn near impossible, and, now, she's a fucking cockblocker!

Last week, I was getting busy with Legs—don't ask me what the hell her name is because I don't know it—and I couldn't seal the deal. I was harder than Chinese, fucking math, got Legs off twice, but I still couldn't come. Only when I closed my eyes, imaging a dark-haired girl with aquamarine eyes, was I able to get the job done.

_And_, that—not being able to get off—has never happened to me.

Incidentally, I'm experiencing a lot of firsts with Isa.

First date.

First time remembering a girl's name.

First time—dare I admit it—missing someone.

First time wanting to be with a dark-haired woman.

_This shit is for the birds_ I silently fume, heading outside. It's almost quitting time, and I hear the guys putting away tools, preparing to leave.

_What to do? _

_What the hell to do?_

JC has picked up on my unspoken desire to hear about Isa, so over the week, he's been dropping hints about her absence. But, really, it's bullshit lines Allie feeds him—_I think_—to appease me.

_Isa is busy_.

_Isa is packing. _

_Isa went into the city to meet an alumni group. _

Isa this … Isa that.

I call it all bullshit.

I know bullshit when I hear it—hell, Ellie was the biggest bullshitter I knew, and I could always tell when she was pulling shit out of her ass to con Me-Maw out of a few bucks. And, I was only seven years old.

I blow out an exaggerated breath, craving a cigarette. A week ago, Cee made the mistake of calling _me_ an addict—a cigarette addict. I dropped it quickly, vowing to show him I'm not an addict.

_Nothing_ controls me.

This whole Isa situation—me yearning, for some strange reason—to see her, makes me really want at least a loosie, just to calm my damn nerves.

"There he is. I told you he'd be around here somewhere." I hear the JC's laboring breath as if he's run a mile looking for me.

Spinning around, to give him a verbal lashing about the mess he's put me, and yes, I'm blaming him for bringing Isa into my life—I quickly swallow the 'f' bombs I planned on firing at him.

The person standing beside him stops me.

_She's here. _

For some reason, breathing becomes easier, and the craving from a minute ago, for the cigarette, is non-existent.

My brain briefly registers Allie stands at JC's left, but my eyes are drawn to _hers_. I find them, hold them, and don't want to release them from hers— from this hold.

_I could stare into her eyes forever and be content._

My silence indicates my need for privacy with Isa. JC gets the hint, taking Allie inside the garage. We continue looking at each other. I greedily drink in her form, encased in a body-hugging skirt, jean top, and nude heels that lengthen her legs, while at the same time enhancing their muscled definition.

I'm filthy with grease and grime; yet, her eyes sparkle with a heated glare as she looks at me from head to toe.

She walks forward, stopping a few inches from me, but I can smell the perfume she's wearing. Through the lens of her glasses, her eyes look contrite.

"Hi."

I gruntback.

It's the only response I can express. Not because I'm trying to play it cool—well, that's partly a reason—but, more because I'm tongue-tied seeing her in the glasses. They make her look innocent and sexy at the same time. A combination I've never seen in the women I associate with.

"Come home with me," I blurt out unexpectedly.

_Shit!_

I sound like a thirsty fool who's never been with a woman before.

She takes a step back, as if shocked by my request. I mentally shrug at my idiotic request, blaming it on the geeky glasses.

_This _is another first. If she accepts, she'll be the first woman, outside of Ma, inside my home.

The more I think about seeing her inside … where I live, the greater I want her to tell me yes.

"Come home with me," I repeat, lowering my voice and praying she gives me the answer I desire.

To my ears, I sound pleading … desperate … and borderline, humbling. Three emotions I've rarely exhibited in my twenty-four years.

_What the hell is she doing to me? _

_And all with only a goddamn, lame-ass 'hi'._

I'll never know why she nods her head in agreement, but when she does, I reward her with my mile-wide smile that I'm certain the residents in Florida can see.

"Let me freshen up." I move to step past her, but an afterthought stops me. "Can you cook?"

"Nope," she replies, rocking on her heels slightly as if proud of her declaration. The small smile, which I'd never admit that I like, lifts the corner of her lips seductively. This makes me want to run my tongue along that corner where her lips meet.

_Another bunch of damn firsts. _

_I'll have my first dinner guest, who isn't a family member who's also dark-haired … inside my home … that I'll be cooking for. _

"Give me thirty minutes. Wait in the front, yeah?" I yell over my shoulder, walking away.

Running up the stairs that leadto the private offices, I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack, and it has nothing to do my sprint-like dash. I'm a ball of nerves, which has never happened to me.

Entering the bathroom, I look in the mirror, giving myself a silent pep talk.

_You've got this! _

_Calm the hell down._

_She's just some chick, Mase_.

Unfortunately, none of this works to slow the beats of my heart or my raging hard-on.

Stripping out of my clothes, I enter the shower, and let the water beat on my back, and slowly, my breathing becomes regulated. There is no need to shower with me standing at full-mast. I take matters into my hands, imagining that my rough hand is really a softer one that belongs to a girl with blue-green eyes.

**About two hours later ...**

"Wow, this taste so good," she tells me, biting into the salmon.

We are currently sitting on my patio. The Hudson River, which flows miles below us, and parts of New Jersey's scenery are the perfect backdrop to the ambiance I've set up.

"I'm glad you like it." I spear a piece of the broccoli, putting it in my mouth.

The smile she's worn since we arrived at my condo is on full display for my enjoyment. "Who taught you to cook?"

Swallowing some mashed potato, I use the napkin to wipe my mouth. "Are we going to play question and answer, again?" I wonder, smirking at her.

She forks another piece of salmon. "If you want."

"Sure, I'm game," I reply, as I refill both our glasses.

There's a gentle breeze, tempering the warm August evening. The breeze blows Isa's curly tendrils over her face. Just then, I determine her hair is more appropriately described as onyx than mahogany. I get lost in the rich, silky blackness and her butterscotch skin complexion. I guess the few wisps of hair blowing in her face is bothersome, because she takes a black hair tie from her wrist, and right before my eyes, she's now sporting a ponytail.

_I really don't know what she is doing to me._

The littlest thing she does captivates me.

I easily overlook her hair color … the one I'd sworn I'd never so much as give a glance. In all truthfulness, the hair color that reminds me too much of my drug-addicted, so called mother—and I use the term loosely—and the color that I detest on everyone _except_ Isa, is one of her more attractive features.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" she asks quietly.

_Do I tell her she's making me break all my rules? _

_Do I tell her that her presence calms me; which is a feat only two other women in my life have ever been able to accomplish? _

_Do I tell her that I'm scared shitless by all that I'm feeling in the two short weeks she's entered my life?_

Instead of the truth, I deflect, chuckling. "Are you ready to start? Ladies first."

"Okay …" She taps her forefinger on her chin. "What's another thing that would surprise me about you?"

_That's easy_.

For this, I don't have to lie. "Besides my Ma, you're the only woman I've had here … in my home."

Instead of responding to me, the disbelief is prominently etched on her face, making me want to reassure … maybe, convince her, I'm not a totallying bastard.

I can still be a lying bastard when I want to be, just not right now!

"That's the truth. No other bit …" I catch myself, choosing to say something different. "No oneelse has been here." I end uncomfortably, because now she'll think she's special … well she is, but I'll never tell her that shit.

Her smile is indescribable.

No, I take that back; her smile is effervescent. I shift in my seat as the smile goes straight to my cock, swelling it almost painfully. Looking for a distraction, I ask, "What would surprise me about you?"

She looks thoughtful for a moment. The way her faces lights up, I can see the imaginary bulb indicating she has something in mind.

"Don't laugh, okay?" she begs, continuing to smile.

"Scouts honor." I give her the official sign with a smile of my own.

"I suck at math, even though I was in advanced placement calculus."

"That," I inquire, biting my lip to hold in my laughter. "That's what would surprise me? Not that you snore, or your shoe size is that of a clown's?" I can't help it. I laugh out loud at her ridiculous 'surprise'.

"Hey," she chokes out through her laughter, throwing the napkin at my head. "I'm sharing here." Her shoulders shake because she's laughing so hard.

As soon as I hear the snort come out of my mouth, I relax even further, and I know I made a good decision—albeit an impulsive one—inviting her here.

Wiping away all trace of laughter from my voice, I tell her sincerely, "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." She dips her head downward, looking intently at her plate.

**Term –**

loosie: is an urban term for a single cigarette purchased at a store

**A/N****:** SunFlower Fran is doing all she can with my paltry words and I thank her. See pictures at .com. 


	5. Chapter 4 - There is a First Time for Ev

**DISCLAIMER: **_Twilight,_ and the characters of _Twilight_, belongs to the brilliant author, Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter 4 – There is a First Time for Everything: Part Three

Characters

JC – Jasper Carlisle Cullen

EC – Emmett Carl Cullen

Allie/Allie Cat – Alice Swan

Cee – Carlisle Cullen

Ma – Esme Cullen

I tweaked it, then Sunflower Fran twerked it. Read in full, skim, or skip … your choice. Next chapter will be new words that were never included in the Mark Me Contest.

**Later on in the night …**

Many glasses of wine later, we've moved indoors, sitting companionably on the sofa in front of my fireplace. She graciously offered to do the dishes, since I cooked, but like a gentleman I declined. We are currently competing with each other over who can tell the corniest knock knock jokes. The winner is determined when the other person laughs at said joke while the loser has to take a shot.

Not realizing how competitive she is, I am only leading by a point with thirteen. All I have left are dirty jokes, hopefully I'll make it to fifteen—which is our cut-off to declare a winner—before I have to resort to those. Win or lose, it is good to see her eyes light up. They rival any precious stone.

"Okay, okay," she yells, laughing along the way. "Here's one: Knock, knock?"

"Who's there?"

"Yah."

"Yah who?

"Nah, buddy, I prefer Google." She burst out laughing. "Get it? Yahoo. Google." Her giggles are infectious, and I'm trying really hard not to join in.

"Heard that before, not funny," I reply, biting my inner cheek so I don't laugh.

"Damn," she mutters, sighing, "I thought I had you with that one." She shakes her head, clears her throat, and quickly swallows.

As her mouth opens, I imagine all kinds of other things … my fingers, my tongue, hell, even my dick … besides what is really in her mouth.

"That's fourteen for me." I try not to think of her lips and fail miserably until I imagine JC naked. That does the trick … at least temporarily, until I look over and see her biting the tip of her forefinger. Groaning, I rush out, "God damn it."

She looks confused, staring at me. "What's the matter?" Her finger drops from her lips … her wet, succulent lips.

_Get a handle here Mase. _

"Nothing." The breath rushes from my lungs. "Here's mine: Knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"Dwayne."

"Dwayne who?"

"Dwayne the bathtub, I'm drowning."

"Heard it before, not funny," she restates my line with an impish grin on her lips.

I'm glad she has loosened her hair from the restrictive hair tie. I like how her curls frame her face. A few buttons on her jean shirt have come loose, and I can see her nude-colored bra. Her glasses are in her hair.

She rubs her hand together as if she's got the one joke that will tie us up … _ah,_ _shit that's not what I meant_. _I mean, I don't even know if she's into the whole bondage scene—_

"Knock knock."

Her question halts my inner train of thought from the erotic journey it wanted to go on. Still reeling from watching her taking a shot and biting her finger, I mumble, "Who's there?"

"Anita."

"Anita who?" _Maybe I can cool down with a sip of water._ My hand finds my bottled water.

She smirks. "Anita dick inside me!"

Water spews onto her shirt, she's laughing, and I'm choking.

_Did she just say she needs a dick inside of her?_

I'm mentally hyperventilating, contemplating my next move. _Fuck it_ … might as well be up front.

"How 'bout mine?"

"What?" she whispers, leaning away from me.

Scooting closer to her, I finger a few of her long curls, twirling them around my finger. _God, her hair is soft._ I try to collect myself and not come off too hurried. "We both know where we want this to end, Isa, right?"

_That's right, play it smooth. I see the look of interest in her eyes before she focuses on the fireplace in front of us._

"Um …" Her tongue slips from her lips, moistening them.

_I just want one taste._

Without thinking, my body moves closer to her. I think I could actually come right now, just breathing her in.

Lust radiates in the air from our bodies, as our eyes connect, and we both lean toward each other. My hand can't make up its mind where to touch first. I safely decide on her exposed thigh.

I count to ten so I don't scare her away. My voice is but a whisper when I say, "Truth time. I'll go first. I've been dying to see what's under this," My hand slides up over her skirt, "since this afternoon."

"Ah …"

_Isa come to me._

I whisper encouragingly, "Come on, you can tell me,"

Her tongue comes out again, but this time she slowly licks her lip, then bites them. "I've wanted to see more of this," her hand travels up my forearm, then grips my muscled appendage, "since I met you."

I pull her over my lap, so she's straddling me.

_God damn it._

Her skirt rides up, exposing her gorgeous thighs and her ass. My hands get greedy, staking a claim on the body part—one of many—that has driven me wild since seeing her in that yellow checked skirt … they rest comfortably on her ass cheeks. I pluck the thin strip of material that is between her cheeks.

"Isa, you have to tell me to stop now." I swallow a moan as she rubs her barely covered pussy over me.

"I don't want to stop." She pushes my head backward, sucking on my Adam's apple.

This time I moan … and I sound like a fucking porn star because those licks from her slick, warm tongue are damn hot.

_Shit._

Her hands tug my shirt over my head. I feel her stare, and then hear her audible gasp as she takes in the breadth of my chest. I relax and let her eyes freely roam, something I've never allowed another woman to do.

Right over my heart, a little over four and a half inches in length and three and a half inches in width, is my beauty. Hand drawn to perfection is a three-dimensional, cracked heart mimicking the exact dimensions of the real one that beats below my skin. It took me six months to sketch it perfectly. Thick, red blood flows through it and can be seen through the fractures. The fractures in my heart … in my tattoo … look life-like. One person told me their fear of touching it because it looked as if the broken edges would cut you simply passing your hand over the image.

Her nail traces the edges of a few lines, stopping at each break … and there are a lot of breaks in this tattooed heart; because, well, there are numerous breaks in the real one, too.

Next her eyes land on the small, cursive words: 'family means forever'. Running under my right lower pectoral, near my lung, these words remind me to breathe … that I finally have people that will always be there for me. They are the words Ma recited when we all signed the adoption papers. Isa's finger follows along each letter, and I see the questions lurking in her eyes. Her gaze comes back to mine, and I try to hold it together.

Taking up the expanse of my abdominal muscles is the landscape of my hometown, etched in black with razor sharp lines. The Empire State Building stands in the middle, tall and proud while Lady Liberty is in the forefront, looking regal and protective. In the background, red and orange flames billow from the sides and top of the now fallen Twin Towers. The George Washington Bridge is positioned in front of the buildings, reminding me of the days my family and I used to drive over the bridge to New Jersey. She touches the metal links and the cement blocks, all shadowed on purpose, and I hear a whispered: "cool". Just two months ago, I added the cherry-colored 1960 Chevy Impala, the first car I restored by myself, that looks like it's going too fast, and is about to cause major havoc. She takes her time looking at all the detail in the motif … my tribute to the city that never sleeps. When I notice the tears that pool in her eyes, I know the tattoo connects us, because it's a testament to our shared pride.

Shifting my position, her eyes slant down to my left hip bone where the sketched replica of my baby, my Beretta PX4 Storm, sits in all its charcoal-colored glory. Finding the right color to match my drawing took months, and it was a bitch to sit through the sessions, but I'm happy with the end result. Strangely, just having this ink here makes me feel proud to be a card-carrying member of the National Rifle Association. A groan leaves my lips as I feel the pads of her fingertips trace the contours of the gun and my hip bone.

Thebold look in her eyes, the biting of her lip, and the smirk around her lips goes straight to my cock. I push upward, letting her feel how everything she's doing affects me.

My movement diverts her eyes lower, and they land on my most recent ink. Her head dips down, taking in the words that run eight inches in length from right hip bone near my …

"Holy hell. Is that … do you have suck my …" She swallows and closes her eyes.

Even in the dim light, I see the blush that blossoms instantly on her face as she gets the meaning. I can't take anymore of her slow perusal that leave me harder than I've ever been before.

"Open your eyes."

When she opens them, there's a mixture of a few emotions that I choose not to linger on; instead, I settle on the one that's most familiar and safe: desire.

"Take your shirt off."

She leans away from me, pulling her shirt out of her skirt, and unbuttons it. I still her movements with my hand, holding it in place by putting my hand on hers. With my free hand, I splay it on her upper chest. Her breaths are coming in uneven, and sensuously jiggling her breasts. I run my hand down the crease, keeping my eyes on her. My hand creeps over to her puckered nipple that is visible through the bra. Her eyes close again as soon as my nail grazes the material over her sensitive nipple. She shivers and swallows.

_Her closed eyes are a problem. I have to see them if she's as responsive as I think … as I've imagined and hoped. _

"Isa, open your eyes … watch me, baby."

She does as I command.

Bending my head forward, I latch my lips around the material, wetting her nipple. I hear a moan, but I'm not satisfied, so I move the bra to the side, revealing her to me. The areola is about a quarter-size in diameter and dark brown. Her nipple extends proudly, begging for my lips to suck on them.

Which I do.

"Ah …"

I release her hand and now both my hands are free as I unclasp her bra. The sheer weight and size of her breasts makes me drool.

Lightly pinching the right nipple between my thumb and index finger, I ask, "What size are you?"

"Hmm … oh … ah," She clears her throat. "34C." Her eyes are cloudy with passion.

"Nice." I gently shake both globes, squeezing them together, as I suck on the nipples.

"Um, Mase …"

"I've been longing to do this." I release her breasts, shaking my head side to side between them.

"Mase … I've never … this is my—"

I shush her moving lips with my finger, which she sucks on, causing me to groan. This is my time to tell her my plan. "No more talking … only feeling."

I lightly tap her on the butt, indicating for her to stand. She steps back and slips off her shoes, which puts her a foot or so shorter than me. I tower over her, and I like the feeling. Usually, the women I've been with have been closer to my height of six feet four inches. I circle her waist, again, going behind her to unzip her skirt. She wiggles her hips to get the skirt off and then, sheds the shirt and bra.

Grabbing her hand, I walk us to the bedroom.

My hand finds the light switch, choosing the dimmer setting. I walk her over to my California bed, and I release her hand. Stepping back, I see her she sit down then push herself back, until she's lying flat on her back with one knee bent. In her position and from where I am, I can see that her natural body juices have colored the seat of her thong slightly.

My dick twitches. 

My filter becomes non-existent when I look at the feast between her legs. "Can I taste you?"

Her head pops up. "Huh?"

"I want to taste you."

Her top teeth bite down on her bottom lip. "Ah … I …"

By the time, she's finished speaking I've already knelt between her thighs. I push up further in the bed, almost near the headboard. My sandals slip off my feet making a loud noise on the hardwood floor.

I'm no saint, and I'm not claiming any virginity status. I've been around the block a few times with countless of faces. But, since the age of fifteen when I first discovered the pleasures found between a woman's legs, there are two things that I _just_ will not … have never … considered doing.

I don't kiss on the lips.

And, I don't eat pussy.

Too intimate, too personal; and I don't do personal.

The pussy is for screwing and always with protection.

So what my tongue is itching to do … what I'm dying to do is so damn foreign, I blubber my way through my request, too afraid to raise the volume of my voice in case she tells me no.

_Because I really, really want to eat her out._

"I've never … but, you … like this," I confess, waving over her lower half, "makes me long for my tongue deep inside you."

I'm not sure if it's my words, or she's just that worked up, but as I rub my finger on her thong, she gushes, wetting my finger.

_Nice. She likes it __already, and I'm only talking about it._

Using my finger, I push her underwear to the side, and notice how smooth she is. Pushing more of the garment away, so I can inspect further, I notice she has a landing strip design.

"Hold this." I ask her as I tug her underwear to the side. She quickly does as I ask.

As soon as she secures her thong as I want, I tentatively lick her slit.

The taste goes straight to my already granite-like length.

A bit sweaty, but her natural scent overshadows that. Encouraged, I use my finger to widen her and am greeted with a lovely shade of pale pink that looks mouthwatering, and there's a cute little mole inside of her right lip.

Near her clit.

Black.

Round.

So fucking lickable.

_What the hell_?

"You have a mole … inside your …" I can't finish my sentence. What I'm looking at is the single, most erotic thing I've seen in all my sexual encounters.

And, I've seen a lot of pussy.

"Yes, I …" She squirms. "Please … stop looking."

"Why? It's fucking cute."

But, I don't think she hears me because I've latched onto her clit by then.

I have two fingers at her entrance, and I try to put them in, but am only able to go nail length.

_Damn, she's tight_.

Switching to only one, I settle on my middle finger and even then, I'm only able to go in a little bit. Concentrating on her clit, I use my other hand to open that part of her body even more. Pulling back slightly, it's like her clit is hidden. I'm determined to suck it out of its hiding place and enjoy myself completely.

Increasing the suction of my mouth, I put all my effort on her clit. I'm rewarded when her juice liberally coats my finger, allowing me to push in further.

_Fuck yeah._

"Oh … my … what are you …" she babbles.

The smell of her is intoxicating; her taste is one of a kind, and the way she clenches around my finger is addictive.

_She__loves this as much as I do._

I get into a nice rhythm between fingering her and sucking on her clit, and she almost bucks me off her but I hold her down by her stomach. I quickly pull my finger out of her, as her head thrashes side to side, and my request of holding her underwear is all but forgotten. I spread her lips further apart; her clit is engorged, and I see it's a pale pink color just like the insides of her pussy lips.

_Shit_.

I close my lips over it, using my tongue to pull it more into my mouth, as I suck harder. A few seconds later, a gush enters my mouth as she yells.

I'm not satisfied.

I need more.

I deserve more. This is two weeks of waiting on this fine pussy, a fucking date, and dinner made by my hands. Hell, I deserve this and much more.

There has to be more. I want more … inside of my mouth.

I hold her legs apart and in place, further sucking as I see-saw my finger, knuckle deep, inside her.

_This time, I have to feel how she feels when __she comes_.

I suck her clit like I'm a pro when in reality, this is my first time. My fingers continue their motions. Her body gives me what I desire … what I'm most intrigued over: her juices coat my lips as she seizes my finger inside of her.

_Fuck me. _

Never before have I ever felt so triumphant making a woman come as I am now.

I feel like a king.

The way her legs shakemakes me feel like the motherfucking king of pussy eating … on my first try.

_I'm_ making her body quiver.

_I'm_ making her see stars, if the whites in her eyes are an indication.

_I'm_ the one making her unable to catch her breath.

I feel more like myself now.

I slowly pull out of her as I hear her making incoherent noises. I take my time licking my fingers.

_Damn. Good to the last drop._

Looking deep into her eyes, I step out of our last clothing barrier, my shorts. I didn't bother to put any underwear on when I'd showered earlier.

_I really want to try something else__with her._

"Isa, are you …" In my nervousness, my voice cracks. Instead of revealing the truth, I lie. "I'm out of condoms ..."

She's smart, this isn't her first time … she should know what I'm asking.

She props herself up on bended elbows to look at me. "You're … out … um ... what?"

"I'm clean. Are you?"

_Please say yes. _

_Please say fucking yes._

" … pill … I've never … yeah, I'm, um … okay …" she squeaks out, muffling the last part of her sentence in the pillow she's thrown over her head.

Dismissing everything she said and honing in on her giving me the green light, I grab my cock.

"I really want to hit it … fuck, I really want to feel allof you … just you." I ease part of my head into her, pushing the head inside.

"Yeah … ah, yes … just, oh God, slow … go slow," she chokes out, just as I try to move forward some more. 

Beads of sweat form on my forehead, despite the central air being on. I push some more. "Fuck, you're tight."

I'm only halfway inside her, and she's choke-holding the hell out of my cock in a very pleasurable way. Leaning on my forearms to keep most of my weight off of her, I see unshed tears in her eyes.

"Am … I … shit … hurting …"

"Just …" Her exhaled breath hits my face, drawing my attention on her lips. "Just a little …" She moves, allowing me to slip inside of her some more.

"Isa, stay still … give me a second here."

_I could seriously come right now and that would be a damn embarrassment!_

To distract both of us, I bend my head and take her bottom lip in my mouth.

_Fuck me. All of her tastes good. _

Surprisingly, I like kissing her. She tastes like some of the wine from earlier, and like cherries … maybe she'd worn cherry lip-gloss. Angling my head, I deepen our kiss, letting her take the lead.

_This makes it even feel better._

I hear muffled groans; her wetness coats me, making it easier to slide forward. Gripping her thigh, I hike it up, reveling in its smoothness, as her tongue plays with mine. I surge forward, and I go all the way in.

Being inside of her … is like nothing I've ever felt before.

She mumbles something, but I'm not sure what it is because I'm on sensory overload. Her nails rake down my spine then she palms my ass cheeks, pulling me inside of her additive heat. She throws back her head, grunting words of encouragement. When she squeezes my cock, locking me inside of her as she comes, it takes _all_ my years of sexual know how, not to come with her … and especially not inside of her.

As her muscles release me, I quickly pull out, coming on her stomach. I roll off her, taking her with me.

_That was good_ … _so fucking good!_

I notice that her curly hair is a little matted on top of her head. I push the few tendrils from her face, kissing her forehead. My hand has a mind of its own, and trails down her back, holding onto one an ass cheek. I lightly tap it, wishing I could see it jiggle.

I plant another kiss on her head as the feeling of contentment spreads from my toes to my … well, it's just fucking spreading.

"Thank you," she whispers.

_No, thank you._ I wish I wasn't such a pussy and could tell her that. I choose something else though.

Biting the bullet, I realize I'm sweating just thinking the thoughts that I'm about to reveal. "Isa … I want to …" _Get a coherent thought, Mase_. "I know you're going away, but Poughkeepsie is only an hour or so away. I could … we could … you know, if you want to do that. Would you … um, want to?"

_Please say yes. _

_Please say __fucking yes. 'Cause I want more of this… more of you and this body_

Light snores greet me as I turn my face toward her and see she's sleeping.

Curving her to my side, I feel really content.

Usually, I'm the first one dressed and half way out ofthe door right after I've gotten what I wanted. But, Isa makes me want to burrow further into her … in her presence.

We'll talk in the morning.

**Early the next morning …**

Groaning, I rub my face, scratch my chest, and palm my dick—all part of my morning ritual.

I run my hand to my right to pull Isa to me, but hit only a cold spot.

_Huh?_

Picking my head up, I open an eye in her direction. "Isa?"

No warm body.

I'm wide awake now.

_Maybe she's in the bathroom._

I glance at the clock on my nightstand, seeing it reads 6:00 AM. I yell her name. If she's in the bathroom, she'll definitely hear that. But, I hear no response.

Heart in my throat, I speed out of the bedroom, heading into the living room.

Her clothes are gone.

On the table, in front of the fireplace, something yellow catches my attention. Going closer, I see she's spelled out thank you on eight pieces of sticky note papers using a smiley face for the 'o'.

_What the fuck?_

Who leaves a thank you on a sticky?

If it wasn't happening to me, this would totally be a move I'd pull after a one night stand.

_But, this is no one night stand. Hell, we had dates … plural. What the fuck?_

In the harsh light of the early morning, I look down and see blood on my dick.

She leaves me leaves me with a bloody dick, and a smiley face thank you.

_Who does that?_

My hand clutches my heart, and I wonder what the hell just happened.

She's gone … andI have no idea how she mind fucked me so easily.

[1] All knock knock jokes were found at www . jokes4us knockknockjokes / (remove the spaces)

**A/N**: Story is beta'd by SunFlower Fran. My Southern gal pal, Hoodfabulous, pre-read then gave the okay. Big shout out to her (LOL). Check out my personal blog, p / – remove the spaces, to see what they see.


	6. Chapter 5 - My First Fk Up

**DISCLAIMER: **_Twilight,_ and the characters of _Twilight_, belongs to the brilliant author, Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended.

Characters

JC - Jasper Carlisle Cullen

EC - Emmett Carl Cullen

Ma - Esme Cullen

Cee - Carlisle Cullen

Allie/Allie Cat - Alice Swan

Ellie - a female close to Mase to be revealed later

Me-Maw - a female close to Mase to be revealed later

Chapter 5 - My First F#$k Up

*eight months after chapter four*

**Mid-day, April 1, 2010**

Either I'm going for the Best Brother of the Decade Award or _her _pussy is that good.

These are the two thoughts floating in my head as I drive through the gates of Vassar College. Sitting beside me is Allie, who has probably eaten ten bags of Skittles because she's as jumpy as a fiend fixin' for a hit. Or, she could naturally be this hyper. She's been alternating between pulling on her seatbelt strap and rubbing her hands on her legs.

Let me be clear: I am not supposed to be here, nor do I want to be here.

At the last minute, JC was unable to make the hour and a half drive to Vassar with Allie. Some kind of problem, some techie mumbo-jumbo that only he could handle. And, here I am doing his fucking job since he's Allie's man … one of the duties of being able to taste your girl's cookies, is doing as she tells you. Or, so I'm told. He should be serving as chauffeur extraordinaire … not me!

And, I'm not a happy camper.

For the last eight months, I've effectively cleansed my mind, my sheets, and my dreams of all things Isa.

I've lobotomized her from my brain.

No easy feat, but whatever, it was mind-over-matter. Like I said, I'm addicted to nothing, and no _thing _controls me. When I think about how our last night together ended, I've concluded that she was playing me like a fiddle. She wears these sexy clothes that draw attention to her body, but it's those innocent eyes that get you … fucking gaze entraps you.

Innocent my ass!

She set me up good that night. I mean, really, who gives their virginity—so, yeah, I figured that out after seeing the blood—to a virtual stranger, then tiptoes out all sneaky-like in the early morning hours?

I will tell you what kind of woman does that. The kind of woman who wants to be free of her virginity so that she can go dick crazy in her college years, that's who. Now, she is probably fucking all the preppy boys at Vassar.

Somehow _that_ thought, of her fucking other dudes, pisses me the hell off … like I want to strangle her and _any_ motherfucker that thinks he can dip his dick in _my_ pussy. Irrational damn thought, but I still think it!

Her leaving the way she did only re-confirmed what I've held to be true over these years … dark-haired bitches aren't to be trusted.

She left _me_.

The last people that left me were Ellie and Me-Maw. I've made a vow to myself that they would be the last to do so, and since then, I'm always the first to leave. Isa reminds me too much of Ellie and that isn't good.

For her sake and my sanity, I have to stay away from her.

Allie kept blabbering on her way up here that this is a surprise visit because her sister sounded really depressed the last time they spoke. I tuned her out as I tried to figure out why I allowed myself to be Allie's driver.

_Must be morbid curiosity_.

Allie shows me where to park, and then we both exit the car, walking over to a brown building. Apparently, Isa lives in the only, all-female dorm on the campus. Heading up the stairs, we see some kind of swipe mechanism that would allow us inside the dorm. We don't have a student identification card and the campus looks empty. Luckily, a student is leaving the dorm, and she lets us inside. There's an empty desk to my left that looks like it's for security personnel and a couch to my right. In front of me is a room that makes me feel as though I've been transported back to the early nineteenth century, because of the antique-looking furnishings.

"I'm just going to see if there's someone around to help me find Isa," she announces.

I take a seat behind the desk near the front door, continuing to silently ponder my presence here. In August, only four months from now, it'll make a year that my life was turned inside out by _her _presence in the garage.

Not five minutes later, Isa enters through the door with a tow-headed, tall guy. One of his arm drapes over her shoulder and her hand is around his waist. _They look intimate …__ too damn intimate for my liking._ Her head is down, so she hasn't seen me as yet, but the guy … maybe he recognizes something in my facial expression, because I know once I saw him with her, my facial muscles tightened, probably making me look like I've swallowed something distasteful.

He stops them short which forces her head up. Surprise registers in her eyes and her mouth attempts a small smile. 

I don't need a mirror to tell me that I'm wearing the fakest smile of a lifetime.

Her jaw drops open, then quickly closes turning into a grimace.

_Good, that's the perfect reaction I want._

"Oh, there you are …" Allie blurts out, rounding the corner and rushing in front of her sister.

The guy slinks backward when Allie gives him the stink eye—at least that's what I'm hoping she gave him—allowing the sisters to hug.

"When did you … um," She swallows, motioning toward me over Allie's shoulder, "get here?"

Allie looks at me with a curious stare. I shrug my shoulder indicating my cluelessness about her sister's behavior. "We've been here about twenty minutes, right?" she inquires, looking at me as I stand beside her.

"Uh huh," I respond, but my eyes are glued on the guy two steps behind Isa, but still too damn close.

I think she senses how I feel about her boy toy because she extends a hand to him, pulling him front and center, as if she's forgotten her manners. The move is protective, but it's really to another send a message to me. I can see it in her eyes.

_Fuck off, Masen_ is what I read from her firm grip on his hands and the confidence in her stance. When I hear the hesitation in her voice as she speaks, it throws into question what my brain thinks versus what my ears hear.

"Um … this is Michael Crowley," she tells both of us. He smiles down at her gratefully. "Mike, this is my sister, Alice and—"

"Masen, her man." I shove my hand toward him.

Shocked intakes of breath erupt—from who I don't know because I'm focused on Isa.

She and Blondie—_yeah, that quickly, I've dismissed him as irrelevant_—both yell simultaneously, "What?"

Now, I definitely have the fakest of smile plastered on my face. "April Fools."

_I have to get out of here_. _I'm trying too hard. And, I don't need to try at shit!_

They both laugh nervously, and I see Allie's eyes flicker over to me, once more, with interest. The air is filled with uncomfortable silence and nervous energy. Allie and Isa open their mouth at the same time, maybe to say something, but realize each other's action and instantly close their mouths, laughing.

I step back, realizing I'm the cause of the change in the atmosphere.

_Enough of this fuckery._

"Allie, I'm—"

She interrupts me, sounding anxious and sullen at the same time. "We're not leaving yet, are we?"

"I'll be around. You have my cell right?" I ask, stepping forward, forcing Blondie to separate from Isa's side.

"Yes."

I mentally laugh at his concerned look when I purposefully brush against Isa's arm. Instead of leaving right away, I decide to do something.

At first it was merely to let her know her man is a pussy, but all it did was put my fucking emotions in a tailspin.

I stop beside her. I know she sees me yet she refuses to look up at me. Bending, my head, I turn my lips to her cheek—the smoothness is almost too much—and kiss it. I try my best not to inhale her sweet smell and fail. My head stays in that position, as I lower my voice so my words reach only her. "I bet you he won't ever make you scream like I did."

I laugh at her shocked gasp and hiss. When I pick up my head, her cheeks are rosy—just the way I like to see them —and the lust rolling off her almost takes me under like quick sand.

"Well then call me when you're ready." I tell Allie—and by extension, Isa.

I mean all _she _ever has to do is call me and I'd come …

Walking between Isa and Blondie, I decide to throw the pussy a bone.

The slap my hand throws on his chest is loud and intentional. I like that the bitch grunts in obvious pain. I go close to him, laughing, "I'm sorry to tell you this, but even though your name starts with the right letter, you're not me and you'll always be her weak substitute of the real thing she wants." I look at Isa whose face is now wearing a frown. I look back at the asshole to my right and grin. "You take care, now."

_Ah, that feels much better._

Skipping down the stairs, I have no fucking clue what I'll do to pass the time. One thing I know: I wasn't going to hang out with those three. Sure, I felt good back there telling dickhead the lie how Isa wants me, but I know that he still gets to be with her anytime he wants. I'd probably never be in his shoes ever again, even if I were the last man on the earth.

_To hell with this shit_.

I walk across the road toward another building. I let my nose lead me, finding myself entering a pub-like eatery with students littering the place, as if some classes have just ended. I stroll over to the grill area, reading the menu posted above the open window where you order.

"Get the southwestern burger. It's the best." A definite feminine voice whispers from behind me.

I turn around, and I'm hit with several things: her megawatt smile; wavy blond hair that curls seductively around her breasts; and her height is just right.

This place is getting better by the minute.

Giving her the crooked smile I'm sure I inherited from my father, I reply, "Really? I'll only get the best if the best-looking girl here decides to eat with me."

She grins widely which I take as a 'yes' to my invitation.

_Do you see that? That is how women react to me. I don't chase __anyone; they__ come to me._

The more I think about that, the testier I get about the whole Isa situation. The blonde comes closer to me, and I instantly size her up. She has to be five feet nine inches, looking like she's about a size four … she's ideal. Smiling at her, I loop my arm through hers, and we place our orders.

"So, Masen, are you planning to transfer here or simply visiting … dare I hope, a relative?"

I wish I could remember her damn name—which she's told me a few times—but, I can't. "This is a short visit, sweets. I'll be gone in a few hours."

She pouts her lips, drawing my attention to them—which is what she meant to do because I see it in her eyes.

"Well, what shall we do with you while you're here?" The gleam in her eyes gives her away, but I let her take the lead.

"I'm game to anything you have planned."

The rest of our time is spent touring Vassar's grounds, learning about its architecture and the like. I'm not one hundred percent focused on all the details she rattles off, but I try to show just enough interest—with a few 'uh huhs'—to let her know I'm still with her. Unfortunately, every time I see someone in a pair of Converse Chuck Taylor's—the shoes Isa was wearing in the dorm—my attention is pulled away from my lovely tour guide in hopes that I'll glimpse Isa.

We eat again, this time in the school's cafeteria, and now, she's telling me about the history of the different dorms.

_Time to get to the nitty gritty._

"And where do you lie your pretty head down?"

She pushes back a few pieces of hair behind her ear, pointing, "There, in Strong, the only all-female dorm left on campus."

I don't say anything, knowing she's a smart girl, and will get the hint.

"You want to come ... up?" She sounds breathless. Any other time that shit would turn me on. Now, I find myself wishing she was the girl I've been dying to see these many months. The one I saw for too short of a time, a couple of hours ago.

Stepping toward her, close enough to kiss her, I ask, "Do you want me to come … up?"

She licks her lip and shakes her head in the affirmative. I've not heard from, or seen Allie since I left her with Isa. I'm not sure what they've done, but I figure girls like to chitchat and gossip, so I still have some time to kill. I guess it's about six or six thirty in the evening, the latest.

She grabs my hand, and we cross the little street toward the building. Standing behind her as she fumbles with the room key, I lift her hair to the side, hearing her moan. My lips land on her bended neck as the door opens. I briefly note the two twin beds, one on each side of the room. She tries to go for my lips, but I dodge her, going for her neck again. There's grunting, moaning, then her clothes go flying all over. My pants hit the floor, before I put on a condom. We move from the chair to the desk. She comes, screaming like a banshee.

Next, my ass hits the bed. She backs me up, straddling me and swiveling her hips on my lower half, chasing the orgasm I'm withholding from her. She had another one since we've been fucking on the bed already.

I hear the jiggle of the door; I have no time to wonder who'd be coming inside the room, because I'm on a mission.

I need to come, but it's fucking elusive as usual, ever since meeting Isa.

I have no problem getting it up. But, fuck me if I can't come. Like ever. No damn lie.

I know what I need to do … if I see _her_ then I'll come.

The blonde is too caught up to hear anything as the door cracks open.

I turn my head at the sound even though I'm balls-deep inside this chick, and the shocked eyes of Isa meetmine … and I come.

Hard.

Inside the blonde.

_Isa._

"Victoria?" Her voice sounds strangled.

The door slams.

Victoria, that's her goddamn name.

_They're roommates? _

Fuck my life!

**A/N**:

Couple of fics I'm reading:

Cosa Nostra by LeadMeIntoTemptation (mobward),

Grind by JonesnInDaHood (skaterward),

No Matter What by Lolo84, and

The Mistress by JacobsMistress (Jake/Bella fic, some grammatical issues but not too distracting, at least for me)

Hoodfabulous, who is on a one-month fanfiction sabbatical to participate in NaNoWriMo, pre-reads and continues to be siked by the drivel I produce. Story is beta'd by SunFlower Fran. Check out my personal blog, luvtwilight4eva . blogspot p / falling . html (remove spaces) for this chapter's inspirations.


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